He vanished before she could blink, into a night made that much blacker by the absence of even a sliver moon.
Annoyed with herself for hesitating, Melia located a pair of sneakers, pulled them on, and took off after him. It helped that she knew the path to the river, and that the T-shirt Johnny wore was white. She caught a glimpse of him near the bank, saw him heave the box into the water.
A second later, she was airborne and certain she was about to ram into the base of a sycamore tree.
She landed next to Johnny instead, just hard enough to make her head spin and strip the air from her lungs. But even dazed and disoriented, she heard the explosion and felt the river water slam down on her.
She pushed upright, coughing, and struggled to regain her bearings and collect her scattered thoughts.
“That was”—she breathed out—“a helluva bang.” She clambered to her hands and knees. “Are you hurt?”
“If swallowing half a muddy river qualifies as an injury, then yes.” Johnny propped himself onto his elbows. “You?”
“I’ll let you know when I wake up from this convoluted nightmare.” She collapsed beside him, regarded the settling water. “Exactly what was the point of that?”
“Satyr’s testing me. How fast, how sharp, how willing to do what it takes to keep you from dying. He’s also reinforcing his belief that my feelings for you haven’t changed.”
Melia closed her eyes, overwhelmed by exhaustion, frustration, and too many other emotions to count.
“Satyr’s going to keep coming after me, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
It was a terrifying thought, but she needed to know. “Then what? Once I’m dead, I mean. Will he let you live out the rest of your life, or kill you when he decides you’ve suffered enough?”
Johnny gave a short laugh. In a move too fast for her to see, much less counter, he rolled over so she was partly trapped beneath him. The expression on his face would have frightened her if she hadn’t known him so well. “Whatever Satyr decides or doesn’t, believe me when I tell you I’ve suffered enough.”
She knew what he was going to do. She also knew she should stop him, but when she got right down to it, the simple fact was they’d both suffered a great deal. For a moment, at least, with her guard down and the blast still ringing in her head, she needed the reassurance only Johnny could give her. Reaching up, she touched his face. “I’m angrier than I’ve ever been. I want to hate you, Johnny, I really do, but right now, I just can’t.”
“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “You’ll get back there in no time.”
And before she could reply, he covered her mouth with his.
She felt the cracks in her guard growing dangerously larger. God help her, she wanted this. His mouth on hers was a fever. Running her fingers through his hair, she pulled him closer. She wanted to crawl inside him, but—no! She wasn’t ready to let what he’d done to her go. Not yet.
Dragging her mouth free, she slid her hands to his shoulders and pressed him back. “I’m not… I can’t do this. I’ve shut down too much to let it all out at once. I need to know what Satyr’s going to do next. I have to think about that and keep my mind level for as long as I can.”
Johnny stared, but didn’t push her. At length, he looked into the trees. “Satyr will come after me eventually, but not right away. He won’t want me to die quickly, so the initial attempts won’t be full blown. Unless I appear suicidal. Then he’ll instruct his people to stop me from succeeding.”
“Ben Satyr has a very sick mind.” Melia turned her head on the wet moss and regarded the stars just beginning to appear in the night sky. “Don’t take this as anything more than an olive branch, but all things considered, you can sleep in the house.”
…
Ben Satyr sat at his shiny black dining room table with his fingertips aligned on the edge and his eyes blissfully closed. Wayne Newton sang in the background, and a ham, egg, and hash brown breakfast was two minutes away from being served. He had his man in Deception Cove on the line and a serene smile playing on his lips.
“The bomb exploded in the river behind Melia Rose’s house.” Repeating the words he’d just heard, Satyr allowed the taste of delight to slide like fine wine down his throat. “This is excellent news. Were there any injuries?”
“Not from what I saw.” The man cleared his throat loudly and spat. The sound grated on Satyr’s nerves, but not enough to spoil his mood. “Hunt was carrying it,” he continued. “He threw it. She ran after him. Blast knocked ’em both off their feet.”
“Wonderful.”
“I should probably tell you, I followed her into a local bar this afternoon. A ruckus broke out. I saw an opportunity to take a shot at her. Obviously, it didn’t pan out. Too many people, too much confusion.”
“There’s always tomorrow,” Satyr said. “Anything else to report?”
“No, but…she’s awful pretty, Mr. Satyr. You sure you wanna kill her? You could—”
“I want her dead,” Satyr interrupted. His fingers tensed briefly on the table. “Letting her live isn’t an option. Don’t ever forget that or deviate in any major way from the instructions I’ve given you. Are any of Mockerie’s people in the area?”
“You said Hunt killed three of them. How many more would he have sent?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m talking to you.” Mild irritation crept in. “Put it this way: has anyone you know of left town during the past twelve to eighteen hours?”
The man cleared his throat again. “Begging your pardon, Mr. Satyr, but do you really expect me to know that? Roads lead in and out of town. People take ’em both ways. I can mosey over and go through the construction sites. I know people there. Hunt’ll get suspicious, though, if I start asking too many questions.”
Yes, he would, Satyr thought. Johnny Hunt was nothing if not sharp. And quick. And a total fucking bastard. He gave Wayne Newton and his irritation a moment to swirl together. “Do your best,” he said at length. “Eyes open, ears tuned. Melia’s not the enemy, in any case. Hunt is. The woman is the goal. Watch her, but always, always be aware of him.”
“Count on it. I like money. You keep it coming, and I’ll get the job done exactly as you want it.”
“I know you will. That’s why I hired you. Keep me apprised. Just don’t for one minute lose sight of the fact that Hunt’s fast, he’s smart, and he loves his ex-wife. Stay on them.”
A loud spitting sound was his reply as he ended the call. Satyr gave a revolted shudder before opening his eyes to the sight of a tall, leggy blonde in a French maid’s uniform bending down to place his breakfast tray on the table.
“Here you go, monsieur.” She slaughtered the last word, which rankled, but only for a moment. When he pictured Melia Rose’s face, a feeling of bliss enfolded him once more.
Money, wine, and women were good, but nothing, absolutely nothing, tasted sweeter than revenge.
…
Johnny hated mornings, especially when they were coupled with late nights. He’d stayed up until two a.m., emailing lab techs and talking to McCabe who had the bullet he’d sent analyzed. He’d guessed right about the Magnum, but whoever had fired it had never done so on record before.
It had been a long shot in any case.
Hit man or local, he’d wondered when he’d finally tumbled into Mel’s semi-comfortable guest bed. Knowing Satyr, it could go either way. Whoever the bastard was, he’d been hand selected and was undoubtedly good at his craft.
Great. So how many paths would that take him down?
He’d expected to fall asleep with the sound of bombs ringing in his ears, but no surprise to him, his dreams had been entirely of Melia. Of wanting her, yet knowing she was still out of reach. Of wondering if he’d ever be able to earn her trust again.